I dropped the clay mold of Little Monkey’s handprint that she made for me on our first Mother’s Day together. It shattered into a million pieces. I wept.
The broken clay laying around my feet mocked me. It was one more memory lost which triggered the grief that sits on the surface of my heart. There are so many things I have lost from my two adopted children- knowledge, moments, memories, photos. It stinks.
I didn’t breastfeed them. I didn’t rejoice when they first slept through the night. I missed their first tooth and I have no idea what solid foods they started eating. I wasn’t there to wipe tears or to hear giggles. We missed much.
It has been two months and we can’t figure out how to comfort our Little Man at bedtime. He refuses to go to sleep. We have tried rocking, singing, laying him down, rubbing his tummy, sitting next to him. Nothing seems to help our boy. He simply tosses and turns for up to an hour until he finally passes out in exhaustion. His only source of comfort coming from his thumb and twirling his spiky hair.
His file held one line about bedtime – “he plays till he sleeps.” My only clue…..what could it mean?
This is when I feel the loss of time. If only I could have been there for him from the beginning. He wouldn’t have to fall asleep on his own in an over crowded room in the orphanage. There would have been no crib mate to play with until he fell asleep. Instead he would have known my arms. If only….
I guess it doesn’t help to cry over broken clay. We can only press forward making new memories, learning from each other in order to bridge the gaps.
For now I sit on the floor next to my baby’s crib waiting for him to fall asleep. I refuse to leave. I am not really sure how to help him – I guess I am hoping that it will just click for both of us. I will all of a sudden learn what he needs and he will be ready to accept what comfort I have to offer.
Last night as he was tossing and turning he paused. He lifted the bumper pad and peeked underneath the corner. We were peeking at each other….eye to eye. He dropped the bumper, laid down and stuck his fingers through the slates toward my hand.
I think I will glue the clay pieces of Little Monkey’s handprint back together. Something is better than nothing. I will take what I can get.
Casting A Stone 
Tammy, I sincerely hope you are considering writing a book at some point in your life. You have a definite gift for writing…love to read every word. Aunt Joyce
Dearest Tammy, oh how my heart breaks for you and Isaac. We will be praying that he sleeps. His heavenly Father knows. I will be praying for the extra strength and wisdom for you too. Love you, Rachel
Two nights ago was our son’s worst night so far with sleeping. He stayed up all night. I felt like a zombie the next day. I knew it was because his feeding and diaper changing schedule was thrown off by our travels. So I tried my best to hold his feeding off for as long as he could stand it without crying. When I finally fed him, he ate until he fell asleep and stayed that way long enough that I got decent sleep last night. Trying to deal with a crying baby is so hard. Dealing with a crying baby when you are 25% awake is something I never want to go through again. But I’m sure tonight might be a different story than the night before. So, we will see what happens. Best of wishes to you and the family and God bless.
Gatorcote – sometimes just knowing that you are not in it alone helps. Praying for you as your son adjusts and as you are being mommy on little sleep. That is a tough job! Order take out tonight and show yourself a ton of grace! blessings.